


blue sky at night

by luccino



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Fluff, M/M, No Smut, One Shot, i mean they’re pretty gay, tour bus shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 06:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luccino/pseuds/luccino
Summary: “‘So is it a yes or a no on the Paul McCartney plan?’Ryan hummed in mock consideration. ‘I think I might need more time to think about it. What are the chances he's in love with me?’”Brendon keeps giving Ryan flowers, and Ryan’s not sure what he thinks about that, really.





	blue sky at night

‘Ryan.’

‘Ryan.’

‘Ryan!’

Someone shook Ryan’s arm lightly. He groaned. Kept his eyes shut, and let the sun wash over them. His back was kinda sticky.

‘He's coming again, dude,’ he heard Spencer say from somewhere to his right, ‘Daisies this time. I guess he went smaller for a change.’

‘Less is more,’ Ryan mumbled. He tilted his head back to face the sky, eyes still closed. The breeze danced over his face.

‘You could run,’ Spencer suggested.

‘Yeah?’

‘I could hide you,’ he continued, ‘I'll tell him you decided to travel to England and marry your one true love, Paul McCartney.’

‘He'd probably follow me.’

‘Yeah. That's kinda romantic, don't you think? _I_  wouldn't challenge the big P.’

Ryan snorted. ‘The big P?’

They sat for a second. He watched a plastic bottle knock at Spencer’s foot. Spencer picked it up and threw it towards the Cobra bus.

‘No,’ Ryan said suddenly, ‘It’s kinda weird.’

‘He means well.’

‘But what does he mean?’

‘What do _you_  think?’

He sighed, wiped his brow. ‘I don't know,’ said Ryan obstinately, ‘But I wish he'd stop.’

‘Sure,’ Spencer said easily. Ryan saw him roll his eyes through the crack in his own eyelids.

He got it, okay? Ryan totally got it. They'd had this discussion one, five, _ten_ times. Like Jon on the sofa at three in the morning, giving bad advice about Ryan’s inadvisable relationships. It was the thought that counted, he'd reasoned. He'd pretended not to notice the way Brendon’s curtain twitched slightly at the back of the bus.

‘So is it a yes or a no on the Paul McCartney plan?’

Ryan hummed in mock consideration. ‘I think I might need more time to think about it. What are the chances he's in love with me?’

Spencer opened his mouth to reply, and stopped abruptly when a hand fell on his shoulder.

‘Ryan’s in love with someone?’

Ryan twisted round. It was Jon.

Someone pulled the knife out of his stomach.

‘Yeah,’ Spencer was saying conversationally, ‘Paul McCartney. Ryan's thinking of moving to England.’

‘Oh. Thank God. What a blessed relationship, I hope you're happy together.’

Ryan pushed his hand through his hair. ‘I think he's married, actually.’

‘Honestly, I was hoping it was -’ Jon broke off to gesture weirdly with his hands.

Spencer sighed and shook his head. Ryan closed his eyes again and tried his hardest not to notice them.

It was getting far too frequent, this stuff.

He hadn't asked for it, okay? For Brendon. Not consciously. The flowers or the way he followed him around all the time, pressed up against Ryan's boundaries and filling in the corners, the shadows.

The dark patches in his mind felt more lived in.

‘Speak of the devil,’ said Spencer.

Ryan looked up.

‘Ryan!’ shouted a voice - Brendon's voice, because Ryan was pretty sure he didn't know anyone else who'd be sprinting across a parking lot on the hottest day of the year - ‘I've been looking for you everywhere!’

‘Everywhere except right outside the bus?’ he heard Spencer whisper to Jon, and then Ryan stopped listening.

Brendon beamed at him from two centimetres away. Fell into the chair next to him. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi,’ Ryan repeated. He turned to face forwards again.

The air between them stopped vibrating for a second and sort of sank instead, so Ryan looked back. Brendon was biting his lip, flicking glances to the arm he held behind his back as though he expected it might jump out of its own accord. He heard a snigger from behind them, and then the slam of the bus door.

He sighed. ‘What is it, Brendon?’

Like he didn't already know. In the same sense that he didn't already know about the way Jon and Spencer’s faces were pushed up against one of the bus windows, watching.

Brendon gave one last hopeful glance to his hidden arm, and then shoved a fist full of daisies towards Ryan.

‘I found them for you,’ Brendon said quietly, eyes shining. He wasn't trying to hide it. It was always this way.

Ryan bit back the impulse to make a “that's the third time this week” quip or something. It must've shown on his face, because then Brendon kind of wilted a bit.

‘Don't you want them?’

His eyes went long. Rain in pavement cracks, Ryan thought. He let Brendon stew for a long few seconds, and then:

‘ ‘Course I do,’ he said, grabbing for the bunch before either of them changed their minds. The daisies flopped slightly in his hand. Ryan couldn't help but notice how thin the stems were, coloured an unnatural too-dark green. ‘Uh, thank you, Brendon? Yeah. Thanks,’ he paused, ‘Thank you.’

It was stilted, Ryan knew, and a different sort of person might've picked him up on it. Brendon didn't say anything.

There was a muffled snort from the bus.

Brendon frowned. ‘I can't believe they're watching us,’ he mumbled. Really quiet sirens went off in Ryan’s head, the sort that meant there might be a minor emergency.

‘Does it matter?’ he blurted.

_No_ , Ryan chanted in his head, _Say no, say no, say no._

Brendon tilted his head to the side. He scratched at his neck. ‘I guess not,’ he said, and then: ‘Can I borrow one of those?’

‘Uh, sure.’

Ryan fumbled for a second, and then handed one of the daisies over. It blew slightly in the breeze. They were both very careful not to brush fingers.

Then Brendon reached up, pushing one of Ryan's curls back with a hand that shook like his eyes did, tucking the flower behind Ryan's ear. Ryan's ear, which was attached to Ryan’s head which was attached to _Ryan_. It felt intimate, like he'd been backed into a corner.

Brendon's hand lingered. ‘Um,’ Ryan said. He tried his hardest not to let out a breath. Rubbed at this arm instead.

‘ _Now_ you look cute,’ said Brendon softly. Ryan mentally smoothed over the frown threatening to appear between his eyebrows. It seemed like Brendon was following up to some strange conversation about Ryan's cuteness that he hadn't taken part in.

He laughed nervously. This was more than the other times. Ryan strained to hear a noise from the bus, but the only relief he got was the hollow sound of a crisp packet tripping over somewhere behind him. The silence thickened.

‘Like _always_ , obviously,’ Brendon said suddenly, loud, ‘Because I only make friends with cute people, Ryan Ross, did you know? And you're my favourite, so you have to be like, the cutest one. You know? More than Jon and Spencer _combined.’_

‘What about Brent?’

Brendon shuddered. ‘Definitely more than Brent.’

Ryan’s laughs came easier. He let Brendon hang himself awkwardly across their two chairs, felt the heavy weight of Brendon’s head flopping onto his lap.

‘You should laugh more.’

Ryan hummed non-committedly, and Brendon shifted a tiny bit closer, like he might try and absorb the noise. The sun throbbed harder, and they both tried their hardest to pretend it wasn't.

‘But really, Ryan,’ Brendon said, staring up at him intently.

‘Isn't that your job?’ asked Ryan quietly.

‘What?’

Ryan closed his eyes so he didn't have to look. ‘You make me laugh.’ he said, looping a piece of Brendon's hair round his finger slowly. ‘That's your job.’

He kinda hoped it didn't sound like he was using him.

‘Ryan Ross,’ breathed Brendon. _Shit, shit shit shit_ \- ‘You mean I have a _purpose?’_

‘No - no. Uh. I like you for you, you know? I didn't mean -’

‘I know what you meant,’ Brendon said oddly, and he giggled. It danced in the air between them, and something curled in Ryan's chest.

They were quiet for a moment.

‘It's really hot,’ said Brendon.

‘Yeah.’

There were colours curling around them, blues and greens and pastel pink, moving lazily in the heat. This was so much better than whatever they'd been a few minutes ago, Ryan thought. Just _them_ , the sun and the sky and some half-forgotten daisies patterned carefully across Brendon's face. Summer evening light twisted through their fingers.

Ryan lent his head back and smiled. He let the sun skip through his hair.

-

‘Paul McCartney?’ Spencer asked, much later.

No light shone from under the curtains. The TV was flickering across their faces.

Everyone else was in bed.

‘No.’

Spencer let out a low whistle, and tapped at the remote. ‘That much, huh?’

They spoke in riddles because of the curtain that kept twitching at the back of the bus, and also because Spencer knew it stopped Ryan from pulling the walls over his eyes. He didn’t mention that last bit, though.

‘More,’ said Ryan. Flowers in his chest and butterflies in his mouth.

‘You look worried,’ Spencer noted.

‘I am.’

‘Well,’ said Spencer, ‘Maybe you shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s the good kind of worry, the one that knocks on your window and leaves a note once in a while. The friendly neighbour type.’

‘You think?’

‘I _know_.’

‘But Spence,’ Ryan said quietly, ‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘Well,’ he said again, ‘Well. What would you do if someone started leaving notes on your window?’

There was a pause, and they both pretended to watch the screen. An independent film, the sort that television channels only resort to when they’re desperate. Ryan sighed, pulled himself up.

‘Okay,’ he said.

They knew each other, and it was okay.

-

It was cramped in Brendon’s bunk, but they made it work somehow. The night was cooler.

‘Dude. Did you know you have a _window_ in here?’

‘Uh, yeah.’ Brendon said, ‘It’s nice. The sun comes in in the morning if we’re facing the right way.’

‘Why’d you get the best bunk?’

‘Because I _am_ the best, duh,’ he said, but he smiled and twisted round to face Ryan. ‘But you’re totally my favourite, so we can share it, if you like.’

They both smiled in the half-light.

‘Are you both done? Can I sleep now? Oh my God, no - Spencer - Spencer!’ Jon shouted from above, ‘Tell them not to fuck on the bus!’

Brendon snorted into Ryan’s chest.

‘Jesus Christ,’ they heard Spencer say, ‘No ones gonna do that, Jon.’

‘I want oral confirmation!’

‘Don’t we all?’ said Brendon, raising an eyebrow.

‘ _No!_ We don’t!’ shouted Jon, ‘Spencer!’

‘Just say it, Brendon.’

‘This feels like a violation of free speech.’

‘For his sanity, _please.’_

‘Fine, God,’ Brendon laughed, ‘We’re not fucking okay?’

‘Uh,’ said Jon, ‘Can Ryan say it too?’

‘Over my _dead body.’_

‘Right, okay,’ Brendon said, holding his hands up, ‘That’s the end of that.’

Ryan shook slightly with Brendon’s laughter. He huffed. ‘Can we go to sleep now?’ he mumbled.

There was the vaguest hint of early morning pink in the sky, and it was embarrassing, really. How long he’d lain in his own bed staring at the ceiling before he’d worked up the courage to try Brendon’s.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Brendon said, tracing a finger over Ryan’s cheek. He gasped, and pulled it back.

‘What?’

‘Ryan Ross,’ said Brendon reverently, ‘Are you _blushing?’_

‘No.’

‘Oh my God,’ he whispered, ‘Oh my _God.’_ He pounded at the light switch above their heads. Jon’s good night of sleep flew out the shitty bus window.

Ryan buried his face in Brendon’s pillow.

‘Let me see, Brendon begged, ‘I’m stronger than you, you can’t hide forever.’

‘Yes I can,’ he said from the pillow. Curse his skinny ass arms.

_‘Guys,_ you promised!’ shouted Jon.

Brendon grabbed at Ryan’s wrist and pulled, hard, until he rolled over. He exhaled sharply as Brendon clamoured on top of him. Strained his neck away.

‘Beautiful,’ proclaimed Brendon. He ran a finger down Ryan’s neck. Ryan felt it get hotter. ‘You look so cute, Ryan. Why don’t you look like this more often?’

Really, thought Ryan, Brendon was just the worst.

‘Brendon,’ he mumbled.

‘I’m serious. This is a good look for you,’ he said, trying to keep his lips from curving upwards.

‘I hate you.’

‘No you don’t,’ Brendon smiled, laying down next to him again. They both turned sideways to make room. ‘You think I’m the coolest.’ He poked at Ryan’s cheek. ‘See? You’re smiling again.’

‘You know I can’t help it,’ Ryan said quietly.

Something sang in Brendon’s eyes.

‘Why do you keep giving me flowers?’ Ryan whispered. He felt his stomach twist sideways too.

Brendon’s breath stuttered across his face. ‘Don’t you know?’

‘I’m not sure.’

_‘Ryan,’_ whispered Brendon. His face was saying _please_.

‘Did you know,’ said Ryan softly, ‘That I might have been in love with you for a very long time?’

And the sun was starting to rise, now.

‘How long?’

‘Maybe since the first tour, I don’t know.’

And the clouds had been painted over by blues.

‘Ryan.’

Ryan threaded a hand through Brendon’s hair. ‘Yeah?’

‘How do you feel about roses?’ he said.

When they kissed, Ryan felt them blossom together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> okay look so i wrote this a couple of months back, right before i started writing regularly. it’s maybe not my best work compared to what i produce nowadays, but i was pretty proud of it when i wrote it, and i thought i’d post it whilst i’m writing my actual fic. that’s gonna take a few more months, i think. 
> 
> i’m not strictly /in/ the emo fandoms anymore, but i enjoy the music and i’m pretty attached to both the characters that emerge in bandom fics and the people themselves!
> 
> hope you enjoyed, pals!
> 
> oh, and p.s: there’s another fic i wrote a whole three yeaaars ago that i’m never gonna finish, but i thought i’d leave it up for memories.


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